


the touch of your presence

by winter_flowers



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_flowers/pseuds/winter_flowers
Summary: Jim Kirk has discovered that there are many uncertainties in his life, what with losing his mentor and nearly losing his ship—not to mention his own intimate brush with death. Thankfully, Spock is a constant through everything and stays in spite of it all.(Alternatively: Jim thinks about the events in his life that have led up to this point and decides that Spock is something good, which he is thankful to have.)





	the touch of your presence

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title: the author's self-indulgent Spirk fic, written and edited while procrastinating studying for exams.  
> A short piece for this idea I got while thinking about the stars (which have nothing to do with any of my exams at all) and how Jim and Spock deserve nice things for all that they've gone through.
> 
> Enjoy!

 For all that he’d seen during the first year and a half of their five-year mission, plus his time as captain of the _Enterprise_ before and during the whole ordeal with Khan, Jim Kirk felt that he could only be certain about one thing in the end. Well, _two_ if you counted his unwavering faith in the crew of the _Enterprise_.

Sometimes, he thought back to his first meeting with Pike in Riverside, when he’d been carelessly rebellious and the dictionary definition of recklessness. Jim had challenged Pike then, after a last minute decision to join Starfleet, that he would graduate from the Academy in three years instead of four. That he would be even greater than the legends of his father, who had saved hundreds—his father, whom he had never known. Despite his conviction, the circumstances under which he’d received his captaincy had been just as surprising to Jim as to anyone else.

Sometimes, he felt that his one act of heroism hadn’t deserved such a responsibility, despite it having been his end goal. Though he would never have admitted it, Jim had not yet been sure whether he was ready to be a fulltime captain.

(Okay, so he may have used a dirty tactic to take command of the _Enterprise_ during Nero’s attack, but those were extenuating circumstances. He still couldn’t apologize to Spock enough about that.)

Having his captaincy taken away, though only temporarily, had been one of the hardest things Jim had ever experienced. The hardest had probably been while Spock was in that cursed volcano, refusing to be saved so that they could uphold the Prime Directive—which was, ironically, the reason he’d been demoted by the Admiralty in the first place.

Then, he’d lost Christopher Pike, who’d been more of a father to him than any other.

Then, he’d nearly lost his ship because of a war-crazed Admiral.

Then, he’d died.

But nothing had left an impression lasting longer than that moment in the warp core, with him and Spock on opposite sides of the glass. There, Jim had taken his final breaths, had hoped that Spock could see— _really_ _see_ —why he couldn’t have allowed him to die in that volcano.

Never would he have expected the glimmer of emotion mirroring his own in Spock’s eyes.

It hadn’t exactly been about the act of _feeling_. Jim knew that Vulcans experienced emotion perhaps deeper than many other humanoid species. It was more that he’d never even dreamed that Spock could return his feelings, and to realize they were reciprocated only just before his death had brought him both immense joy and lingering sadness.

Then, Spock had saved his life with Khan’s blood—(Bones and Uhura may have had something to do with it, but it’s _Spock_ )—and Jim soon found himself unsure of how to address the potential of something more between him and his First Officer. So, he avoided it, because that was obviously the more logical solution (ha ha).

Trust Spock to make it too difficult to run away for long.

Sometimes, Jim would catch Spock staring at him on the bridge, or during their chess games as he contemplates the next move. Since the beginning of their five-year mission, his XO seemed to have developed a sixth sense—or perhaps seventh, considering touch telepathy and all—whenever Jim was near. It was like he could tune himself perfectly to match Jim’s frequency, increasing their efficiency as a command team so much that he was sure Pike would have been astonished if he were there to witness it.

Still, Jim had never expected Spock to make the first move.

They were returning from another first contact mission gone wrong—the fact that he had to say _another_ was concerning in itself—and Jim had argued with Spock (again) before beaming onto the planet about going alone. Spock, as usual, had stubbornly refused to allow his captain to engage the species with only two security personnel and Uhura at his side. Normally, Jim would not have been so upset, but his frustration as of the late with the Admiralty caused him to react a bit more strongly than necessary.

Essentially, he’d pulled the higher command card and forced Spock to drop the conversation—a terrible idea, even compared to his usual ideas, and that was certainly saying something. Now, he was paying the price for not listening to his ever-rational First Officer.

As soon as Jim’s feet landed on the transporter pad, his knees buckled forward. Spock was there in an instant, catching his arms before he could fall and immediately hauling him out of the room.

“Mr. Spock— Hey, slow down— _Spock!_ ” For all his efforts, Jim could not wrench his arm from the Vulcan’s grasp, despite his protests about numerous cuts from his shoulder to his elbow. He was only released as they approached the sickbay and were greeted by a sour-looking Dr. McCoy.

Spock had not spoken a word since the landing party had returned in the transporter room and it seemed he did not intend to. He remained quiet as Bones pounced on Jim, berating him about his injuries as he waved a tricorder over his body, followed by a hypospray and a dermal regenerator. Jim didn’t try to escape the exaggerated movements as much as usual, too caught up in mulling over Spock’s strange behaviour. He should have at least heard a reprimand about his thoughtlessness by now.

The abnormality of Spock’s actions didn’t stop there.

After being reluctantly cleared to leave the sickbay by a grumbling Bones, Jim was shadowed by Spock all the way to his quarters, without the Vulcan speaking a single word. They stepped inside—well, Jim tried to shut the door before Spock could follow him in, but the latter placed a stubborn foot in the way and Jim was too tired to argue—and Jim whirled on his First, eyebrows drawn together in confusion and worry.

“Spock, what is going on?” he demanded, throwing his hands in the air and immediately regretting it, with the way it pulled at his sore muscles. “I know I probably should have listened to you about the mission, but I’ve never seen you act like—” Jim’s voice failed and eyes widened as Spock took two quick strides towards him, and they were suddenly less than a foot apart.

Then, with only an intense gaze as warning, Spock ducked his head and kissed him.

For a few seconds, Jim couldn’t respond. His mind, for all his genius, couldn’t process that Spock was kissing him— _hell, Spock was kissing him!_ But when he felt Spock beginning to draw away, he instinctively curled his fingers around the Vulcan’s wrist and his lips chased after the receding warmth.

They pulled back moments later, connected by their foreheads and hands. They didn’t speak, but looking into Spock’s eyes, Jim knew there had never been any other answer. This was him and Spock, Captain and First, each other’s and their own—unchanging in every universe.

Jim smiled. Of all the things he had seen, Spock—and the two of them together—was the only constant he needed.

 

\---

 

(“Seriously, Spock, you could’ve been a little more obvious about it. I would’ve liked to know that my pining wasn’t completely hopeless.”

“My apologies, Captain. Should I have—what is that human tradition, sending flowers? Would you have preferred a bouquet of daffodils and acacia blossoms upon your return in the transporter room? Or should I have given them to you after Khan?”

A pause.

“Spock, you—why do you know _flower language?_ Wait, actually, don’t answer that. How long have you liked me again?”

“I am unable to locate a precise time, but a most accurate estimate would be approximately one year, ten months, twenty-seven days, and—”

“You have it down to the _day_ and you think that’s not accurate? I can’t even tell you the month of whenever it was that I first fell in love with you, only that it happened at some point and it stuck.”

Another pause.

“Sorry, too soon?”

Holding his gaze, Spock touched his index and middle fingers to Jim’s and slowly dragged them down, then lifted the same hand and touched the back of Jim’s neck, pulling him closer. Jim understood, as he burrowed his head into Spock’s shoulder.

That was Spock’s _I love you too_.)

 


End file.
